


Warm Hands and Heart Beats

by SnoozingSugarNova



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnoozingSugarNova/pseuds/SnoozingSugarNova
Summary: Byleth confronts Dimitri after Lord Rodrigue's death. Outside in a winter's downpour, the only source of comfort is a pair of warm hands and a single beating heart.





	Warm Hands and Heart Beats

**Author's Note:**

> My angry response to intsys for not making Dimitri s-rankable for M!Byleth. I also have another one for Claude (because let's be honest, all of the house-leaders are chaotic bisexual disasters). Enjoy this hasty one-shot anyway. I'm the only one that proofreads, so apologies for any typos and grammatical errors ahead of time. Thanks for stopping by! Kudos are appreciated <3

Your hand feels so warm professor...have they always been?

The wanton yearning in the prince's voice almost broke Byleth as he took Dimitri's hand into his own, a wave of reality washing over him. It's likely that Dimitri hadn't felt another human's touch - particularly one of kindness - in the entire five years he had been a fugitive. The heir must have forgotten the comforts of even the smallest contact - such minor affections as a pat on the head or a clap on the shoulder between comrades. Therefore, it came as a surprise to the Professor that the armored glove that held his own guided it upwards towards the prince's face. He laid Byleth's palm flat against his cheek, and nuzzled into it. His eyes began to close softly as he melted into his mentor's touch, inhaling deeply and releasing a long awaited sigh of relief. Byleth was thankful for the rain that masked his tears as he cradled his pupil's face between his open palms, using his thumbs to whisk away drops of rain and strands of blonde hair. The dethroned noble began to sob openly, slowly falling forward into his professor's chest, burying his broken mask into Byleth's waiting shoulder. Dimitri had grown so large in such a seemingly short amount of time, that the instructor had to buckle his legs to remain standing, but it failed nonetheless. He supported his companion's weight as both of their knees came to the ground, endeavoring to embrace his former student all the while. All Byleth could think to do was continue to hold the prince, stroking the long blonde tresses that his hair had become with a free hand. Losing all traces of countenance, Dimitri began to wail in complete anguish, the sound barely muffled by Byleth's cloak and the constant drumming of rain on stone. 

All these years he suffered alone, seeing ghostly eyes in the dark, feeling their dead hands on his skin. Now, not only did he have the spirits of his loved ones upon him, but the entirety of those he had slaughtered blindly. There surely were faces he hadn't seen - or perhaps those he had forgotten - but each life he had taken would now forever follow him in this way. Dimitri had to confront these demons on equal footing for the first time in his life and Byleth couldn't begin to fathom the depths of his grief, despite having taken a considerable amount of lives himself. There was some differentiation between hired work and killing for revenge that the former mercenary could not explain. When Byleth had killed for pay it was detached - dispassionate. He was given a simple instruction and it mattered not who his victims were or what ties they had so long as commission was earned. He had no association with the individuals emotionally or otherwise. When the professor had killed for motives, it took the largest amount of mental fortitude he had ever had to muster, and all for an ending of dissatisfaction. Nothing had changed after all, and death was a punishment too swiftly given. Dimitri had spent the greater part of a decade thirsting for revenge - his sole reason for continuing to exist. But it was more than that. The wayward prince had accepted that he was to die perhaps even before killing Edelgard. Revenge wasn't the goal...his only goal had always been to escape the ghosts in his head, and now they were to plague him for the rest of his life.

"I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry…"

Byleth's pupil chanted over and over in a throaty whisper like a prayer. It wasn't just for his mentor, but for his friends whose trust he had betrayed. For Lord Rodrigue and for his son who now had to live without a brother or father. For all the innocents whose lives he had taken - civilians and children. With each apology he entreated mercy, begging for his humanity. The professor managed to hold him tighter, craning his neck to shield Dimitri's face with his. 

"It's okay Dimitri….it's okay."

Having lost track of time, Byleth was unaware how long they spent holding each other on the wet earth. If this was what the prince needed for his soul's reconciliation, then the professor would have spent the rest of his waking moments here with his student. Finally, his sobs began to diminish and his shoulders ceased their shudders. The rain continued to pour, soaking through both of their clothes and Byleth had become cognitive of the cold. He pet Dimitri's head a few more times before offering his suggestion, making sure that the noble's breathing had regulated.

"Dimitri, we'll fall ill if we stay out here any longer. We should head inside." 

He heard a sniff followed by a head nod against his chest, assumably of agreement. Dimitri didn't lift his eyes from Byleth's chest but a hoarse and broken voice managed to sound out loud enough for the professor to hear.

"Professor…I - I cannot spend this night alone. Might I stay with you tonight?"

"Of course."

Byleth removed himself slowly from his student's grasp, assisting him off the ground gently. Dimitri winced as they got to their feet, alerting the professor to the young lord's recent injury.

"We should have Professor Manuela redress your wound before we turn in -"

"No...please. I will do it."

Unable to argue, Byleth said nothing but resolved to change the dressing himself before settling in. He doubted Dimitri was all that proficient at cleaning injuries, and while Byleth lacked Manuela's skill, he was well accustomed to managing wounds. 

They departed from the academy courtyard, the tactician tucking his shoulder underneath the prince's arm as they made their way back. Dimitri tried not to use much assistance at first, but after a short while, Byleth found himself shouldering much of his weight. The prince tried not to make his face appear pained, but the teacher was not so easily fooled. 

The walk to Byleth's dormitory was slow and quiet, neither one needing to say anything. It was obvious that Dimitri was exhausted. He had barely slept since they arrived at Garreg Mach, as soldiers and comrades continuously reported seeing the ghastly prince standing in almost a fixated trance near the Cathedral's tabernacle. Byleth even managed to recall that the two months before the imperial invasion of the monastery, in 1185, Dedue had reported that his charge hadn't been sleeping and often complained of a headache. Certainly - within that time - his highness must have slept, but it would not have been restful or frequent to say the least. The former student's visible eye was constantly dark like a bruise, and his eyelid was draped heavy with fatigue.

Having arrived, Byleth opened the door to his small quarters, allowing the prince to enter first. Dimitri barely seemed lucid as he slowly sat at the foot of his professor's bed, his lone eye glazed over and lost in the grooves of the wood floor and fibers of the throw rug. Byleth said nothing while lighting a candle, and instead turned to his apothecary cabinet and started to remove bandages, disinfectant and salve. Having gathered the necessary tools, he gingerly sat a foot abreadth of the lost lord, slowly extending a hand out to grab Dimitri's shoulder. His highness barely reacted, but likewise didn't seem to be adverse to it. Byleth took the initiative and started to undress the prince, slowly removing the damp fur mantle, and tapestry-made-cloak from the prince's shoulders. The former student didn't struggle or relent to the care as Byleth continued by removing his pauldrons and chest plate, working his way down until his bare upper body was completely exposed.

Byleth couldn't help but stare in both shock and bizarre awe at the incredible network of scars Dimitri sported. The former mercenary had collected his fair share, but nothing close to the map-like topography of his highness. Unaware of his own movements, Byleth ran a finger along the gouges and valleys covering the exposed figure, coming to rest at the fresh wound delivered by the turncoat girl. He had already bled through his dressings, and Byleth slowly lifted up the gauze to observe the wound. Thanks to Dimitri's heavy armor, the sword managed not to inflict fatal damage, but it was still large and deep enough to cause concern. The sutures seemed to be in place from Manuela's handiwork, and there wasn't a large amount of either swelling or drainage. He had likely just exacerbated it by being up and walking around against the infirmirary's orders. Byleth put a light finger next to the stitching to make sure the skin didn't feel hot to the touch - an infection would be lethal. In response, Dimitri flinched, and Byleth hastily apologized, the concern appearing palpable on his face.

"How does it look professor?"

Byleth, couldn't snap his attention away from the prince's bare figure but managed to spout a distracted response, his fingers once again beginning their journey down the roads and pathways of the noble's pale skin.

"It will be fine, it's just...Dimitri…," the teacher stopped, locking eyes with his pupil before continuing, "why...how could you have done this to yourself?"

Tears were still very foreign to Byleth, having shed them only after Jeralt's death until recently. But the impact of Dimitri's long, lonesome struggle made itself apparent. If only Byleth had heeded Lady Rhea's advice and hadn't tried to follow her that day, he might have never fallen down the gorge. If only he hadn't slept so long he could have cleared Dimitri's name. If he had just taken the time to talk to his student after he started exhibiting signs of mania, maybe he could have altered the events that happened five years ago. If he had just -

"No, this is much fault," Byleth admitted, his soft voice cracking as his hand stopped on a rather large band that ran across Dimitri's clavicle, "I should have been there for you, for all of you. It's my fault that this war happened and you were unjustly blamed. If I were there I could have stood up against Cordelia and -"

"I insist you stop at once Professor!"

The command almost startled Byleth, as well as the hand that was now keeping his strapped to the prince's chest. Dimitri's bare eye was fixated on Byleth's, his gaze furloughed with intention.

"There is no one here to blame but me, Professor. I am the one who paved this road for myself; no one else. I cannot bare to see you cry on my behalf. You have no part of this. If you hadn't found me in the monastery a few moons ago I would have already found my end on the tip of an imperial sword. You have done nothing wrong...Byleth."

The tactician shuddered at the sound of his birthname. Jeralt was the last and, maybe, the only person to have used that name throughout his entire life. Since he had arrived at the monastery, both associates and students had only addressed him as "Professor". Even Jeralt preferred to refer to his son as kid, as if to get some sort of emotional rise from him. The shock of hearing his name aloud nearly dulled the new sensation of light fingers on his face, wiping away his tears. The gesture roused Byleth from his mental wanderings, and he became aware of the compromising situation he found himself in. His one hand was still trapped firmly against Dimitri's bare chest, the other resting softly on the Prince's thigh. His former student's spare hand was now behind his neck, drawing him in closer to a pair of chapped but awaiting lips. Finding himself unable to resist even if he had desired it, Byleth leaned into Dimitri, and the two kissed. It was slow, gentle, even chaste. The royal moved away, but the professor kept his eyes shut for a moment longer, feeling his highness's soft and warm breath against his lips.

"I -I apologize Professor. That was inappropriate of me."

Even though the mercenary-turned-demigod had never known his heart to beat, he felt a pleasant ache in his chest as the two separated and he opened his eyes to peer into Dimitri's solo gray visage. Color ran to the noble's face as their gazes met and he turned away sheepishly, clearing his throat in a manner of embarrassment. An awkward silence proceeded before Dimitri began to start slowly, his voice pitched and anxious.

"If I may speak openly professor, I've carried a flame for you since I was a student at the academy. I know it seems unbecoming, and I wasn't quite aware of it myself until later...

"When we first met, you were so...detached. I thought you to be emotionless. It perturbed me; especially as you used to work as a mercenary. I thought to myself, 'here is someone who doesn't feel sadness for taking another's life'. The idea was terrifying to me, but not for the reasons others would think. I was scared that I should become like that someday. That I would be able to one day take another's life and feel no remorse - no regret. Well, that fear came to fruition, but not due to any of your involvement. On the contrary, the more you opened up to us, the more I began to observe your compassion, and later your sadness and rage. But I still fondly remember the first time I saw you smile. It was so genuine, so pure. Simply mesmerizing… and then - heh, then, when Claude asked you to dance at the ball I became so horribly jealous. As a Prince I'm supposed to carry on the Blaiyyid bloodline, so for crest-baring nobles - especially an heir to the throne - dancing with another man would be highly scandalous. But Claude never cared much for tradition and I became so envious I almost lost my footing. That night, I followed you into the courtyard, ready to confess my love. But, once I confronted you, I found I lacked the courage. I know this must seem incredibly foolish..."

Byleth's body moved on his own accord. He took the prince's face into his hands, pressing his chest against that of the wounded lord beside him.

"Dimitri…" 

He took the initiative and pushed into Dimitri tenderly, investigating the man's mouth with his own. Byleth could feel his lover drink him in, a rough hand milking the back of his neck, and another attached firmly at his waist. The professor clenched a handful of yellow locks, as the heir's immense strength began to push down on him, forcing his back onto the bed. Dimitri effortlessly strateled him, their lips only unlocking to take shallow breaths. The former student's hands began to wander, caressing Byleth's hips, and then worm their way underneath his back drawing both bodies even closer. The mentor could feel a pulsating against his chest, realizing it to be Dimitri's heart and not his own, but the sensation was nothing short of euphoric to the demigod. This was how it felt to be truly alive, he mused, as the rhythmic muscle worked to make up for both parties.

After a few moments they parted, Dimitri searching his face with a look of both gratitude and longing. His Highness's normally rough hands seemed to barely make contact as they traced the professor's jaw line, and Byleth became vaguely aware of how hard he was breathing. 

"Dimitri, I thought I lost you," Byleth confessed, bringing his hands behind his lover's neck, gingerly undoing the ties of the eyepatch the prince had sported for the last number of moons. The prince let the patch fall without argument, revealing a long fleshy scar now adorning a filmy, yellow eye. Byleth could still see the original blue iris underneath the layer of tissue, and it still acted alert and responsive on its own accord. The professor lightly traced the injury with a finger tip, Dimitri then catching his hand to impart a delicate kiss like a nobleman courting a prospect. 

"Byleth…"

The prince's hands were now at Byleth's belt, undoing the fastenings slowly. Following suit, the tactician assisted in removing his own pauldrons and cloak, until only his trousers and boots were left, much like Dimitri's. 

The prince's face began to change as his eyes narrowed and his voice grew deep and husky, "I should not ask this of you, Byleth. Am I being selfish, even now knowing I don't deserve you?"

The demigod brought his lips to his students ear, "you needn't ask me anything, Dimitri. I want this."

With animal-like enthusiasm, the heir responded by burying his teeth into his mentor's neck, eliciting a small, honeyed gasp from Byleth's surprised face. He heard the prince snort in amusement as he continued to tease his prey, nibbling and exploring every inch of the professor's chest with sharp teeth, only arousing the man more. Byleth slowly became aware of a hardness against his abdomen, and couldn't help but observe that his Highness's pants had grown unnaturally snug. The mercenary brought his hands beneath the lip of Dimitri's trousers, greeting his hardened shaft as he undid the ties. His interests now spurred, the prince followed suit in lowering his lover's dressings, exposing them both. The former pupil was the first to act, taking Byleth into his hand as he began to massage, his thumb and forefinger rolling across the tip. The professor's back arched as he shuddered, his breathing becoming deep and labored. Strings of fluid began to run across the surface, and Dimitri brought his hand away only to lick the substance off his fingers, a devilish smile forming across his face. He offered those same fingers to Byleth's mouth, a cool and demanding voice instructing that he taste them as well. The tactician obliged, opening wide to accept the proposal. He drew his tongue across them with vigor, leaving long threads of saliva dangling from his chin and onto the noble's hand. Satisfied, Dimitri used the opposite hand to pull the man's trousers even lower, exposing his rear completely. He pulled Byleth's thighs apart with ease, positioning himself in-between them with lustful intent. The professor involuntarily clenched as he saw the heir's moistened fingers prepare to enter, willing to accept the act but still apprehensive of the foreign experience. Graciously, Dimitri fed them in slowly, allowing for Byleth's winces to subside before adding more. Realizing he had tensed himself, the man tried earnestly to relax, his head sinking back into the pillow as his chest rose and fell in anticipation - his hands now prone and resting at his sides. Satisfied with his progress, the heir spat into the palm of his hand and greased his own shaft, readying it. Before he indulged, he leaned into Byleth, kissing him passionately - deeply. He brought his lips to the demigod's ear, nearly purring with ecstasy.

"Are you ready?"

At a loss for words, Byleth could only nod his consent, his eyes watery with hunger and excitement. Dimitri guided his member in, and the teacher found himself biting down on his lip to prevent the inevitable yelp that would have followed. As the prince continued to enter, Byleth tried only to focus on his breathing, willing his body to accept the foreign intrusion, despite the aching and throbbing happening inside him. Finally, the movement halted, and Dimitri exhaled heartily, his breath appearing as steam in the frosty air. 

"I'm going to start moving now...if that is acceptable."

Teeth still pinching his lip, Byleth once again nodded, now bringing a knuckle to his mouth to abuse instead. A wave of relief pursued by another clap of pain and euphoria had the professor whimpering as his student began, each thrust making Byleth dig his teeth into his hand even further. Taking notice, Dimitri took hold of his mentor's wrist and moved the hand away, trapping it against the bed sheets. His other hand pushed down the demigod's knee, forcing it even closer to his chest, offering the lord more room to maneuver. Without his artificial gag, Byleth's whimpers turned into longing mewls despite his pitiful attempts at stifling them. Dimitri supplemented by kissing his mentor, Byleth accidentally biting down on his lover's tongue after one particularly deep thrust. As it began to bleed, the prince only seemed to revel in the affliction, using it to draw bloody pictures over Byleth's pale chest like an artist covering a canvas. His pace quickened as he leaned in to bite at the demigod's nose and lip, drawing blood in the crook of the professor's neck - the heir's deep breaths now becoming muted, primal grunts.

Nearly at his limits, Byleth used his arms to pull himself close to Dimitri's chest, yearning for the rhythmic dancing of a beating heart against his own. The prince's nails dug into the professor's back as he began to buck with ferocity, muffling his feral outbursts by taking a mouthful of Byleth's flesh between his fangs as the affair escalated. The professor managed to spout a wordless protest only seconds before he released; a thick white film painting the pairs' chest. In a few more hasty thrusts, Dimitri growled as he followed suit, an odd and warm sensation filling Byleth as he gasped for air. Fatigued and unable to hold on any longer, the mentor let go of his student, his back meeting the bed with a soft thump. Likewise, Dimitri fell forward, catching himself by spreading his hands wide a few seconds before completely collapsing on his teacher's chest.

The pair stayed that way for a generous amount of time, both faces flushed red from the exertion. The prince must have realized that he had yet to leave Byleth's rear, and he gently removed his softening member, a large amount of seed trailing behind. Dimitri turned his head to hide his blush, clearing his throat, "Apologies, I didn't mean to release inside. There's just something about you...I just - I just lose myself when I'm with you-"

Byleth cut his apology short with a kiss, wrapping his arms around his lover, "you don't have to apologize, Dimitri".

Dimitri smiled before returning the gesture, both individuals caressing the face of the other.

"I love you, Byleth. Damn crests to hell. I want to be with you forever. Even if I deserve you not."

For now, the demigod would let himself believe those words, even if the Prince's priorities should fall to his people first. But for tonight, the only promises they had was one shared with the other.

"I love you, Dimitri." 

The prince smiled and wrapped his naked body around the professor's, both individuals yearning to close any available gap between the two. They collapsed back on the bed, legs intertwining and chests pressed tight as they stroked one another's hair and listened to the rain continue it's tumultuous assault of the grounds outside. Byleth thought this must certainly be a dream as they fell asleep to the flicker of candlelight, the pounding of a heart where his lie still marching the pair into a restful sleep.


End file.
